Liam sat frozen on the edge of his bed, a steaming cup of instant noodles forgotten on the desk beside him. His clothes clung to his damp skin from the quick shower, but all the heat had drained from the room.
Across from him stood the old woman.
She hadn't knocked. She hadn't opened the door. One moment, he'd been alone, and in the next—there she was. The same woman who'd stepped in front of his car, the one who pushed him back into the past. The wrinkle-faced enigma with eyes far too steady.
Liam's voice broke the silence, low and sharp. "What the hell is going on?"
She didn't flinch. "You always were quick with your questions. It's part of your blood."
"Great," Liam muttered, standing up. "So you're back to mess with me again?"
"No," she said softly. "I came to tell you the truth. You deserve that much."
His brow furrowed, and despite everything, he didn't tell her to leave. Something in the air had shifted. The room felt… still. The air too thick. The hum of the fan had ceased. Even the street outside was silent.
"I'm your great-grandmother," she said, her tone matter-of-fact.
Liam's face twisted. "You expect me to believe that?"
"I don't expect anything," she said. "I only speak what is."
He eyed her carefully. "Fine. Let's say I believe that. Why now? Why any of this?"
She stepped forward. Her steps were light, soundless. "Because your life—your true life—was stolen. Not metaphorically. Not emotionally. Literally."
Liam blinked. "Stolen?"
She nodded. "You were kidnapped. When you were just a baby."
Liam's stomach turned. He scoffed. "I think I'd remember something like that."
"You were an infant. You wouldn't. And those memories—of the people you call your parents—were never yours to begin with."
His legs grew weak, but he stayed standing. "That doesn't make sense."
"Your mother," the woman said, reaching into the folds of her shawl, "was murdered. A powerful, intelligent woman. She was building something extraordinary. And someone feared that. Feared you."
She pulled out a small, worn photograph.
Liam hesitated before taking it.
It showed a young woman, radiant and alive, cradling a newborn in a hospital bed. Her hair was dark and soft. Her eyes were tired but bright. She looked like someone you'd trust instantly. And the baby—red-faced, tiny, but unmistakably him.
"That's your mother," the old woman said, "and that's you. You were taken from her not long after this was taken."
Liam's hand trembled.
"She loved you more than anything. But she never got to watch you grow."
He stared at the photo for a long while. Something in his chest—something buried and quiet—ached.
"Who did it?" he asked. "Who took me?"
"That truth will reveal itself in time," she said. "But you must be careful. The ones who wanted you gone… haven't vanished. They've only grown stronger."
"And you?" he asked. "You just watched all this happen?"
"I tried to intervene," she said. "I failed. But I was granted one chance to make it right. One divine bargain. I used it to bring you back here—to the moment where you could take your life back."
He sank onto the edge of his bed again. "And what? You want me to go find these people? Confront some billionaire family I've never met?"
"I want nothing from you," she said. "Only that you live the life that was stolen from you—if that's what you choose."
He narrowed his eyes. "And what's my real name, then?"
"Leonel Reyes," she said. "The name your mother gave you."
Liam—no, Leonel—stared blankly.
The woman walked forward and gently placed a wrinkled hand on his forehead.
"I leave you with this," she whispered.
A warmth spread through his body—not fire, but something gentler. A lightness that pushed back the years of stress and failure. It filled the hollow places inside him, the ones he never dared name.
She stepped back, a smile flickering on her lips. "Live fully. Whatever path you walk, walk it for yourself. But if you ever seek out your blood, be wary of the blonde devil and her spawn. They live with your father now. And they will not welcome you."
Liam's breath hitched. "What do you mean—?"
But she was already fading.
Her form shimmered like dust in sunlight. Her shawl dissolved first, then her hair, her eyes, until finally—nothing remained.
The room returned to normal. The hum of the ceiling fan resumed. The sounds of distant traffic filtered in. Time had resumed its rhythm.
He was alone again.
Liam looked at the photo, barely breathing. Leonel Reyes. That was him?
He didn't move. Couldn't.
And then—a flicker of blue lit the air before him.
A glowing translucent screen appeared, floating in mid-air.
Initializing…
He jumped to his feet. "What the hell now?"
Welcome, Host.
After reviewing the host's memory files and psychological profile, two dominant values have been identified: Women and Money.
He blinked. "What?"
Constructing system architecture based on core behavioral drives…
Liam stared at the screen. It was bright but not blinding. He instinctively reached for it but his fingers passed through. The text changed again.
Welcome to the Dream Life System.
Host: Liam (Leonel Reyes)
Age: 18
Height: 5'11"
Weight: 84 kg
Primary Interests: Women, Money
Liam stepped back. "This has to be a dream."
But everything felt too real. The warmth on his forehead. The image of his mother. The photo still in his hand. Even the glow of the system screen—it didn't flicker or blur like a hallucination.
This system has been granted to assist the host in living his ideal life.
All progress will reflect in real-world development.
Use it wisely.
He watched the screen for a few more seconds, heart racing. But he wasn't ready. Not for whatever this was.
Liam reached out and waved the screen away. It vanished instantly.
He climbed into bed, lying stiffly on top of the covers, the photograph resting on his chest.
So that's it. He was someone else entirely. Born to a mother who loved him. Stolen and raised by people who never treated him like their own. And now… now he had a second shot.
But at what?
He closed his eyes.
For now, he just needed to sleep.